


The Collar Did It

by stickylandkitten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light BDSM, M/M, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickylandkitten/pseuds/stickylandkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...sometime after "Dog Dean Afternoon," (9x05), a moment of possibility, a 'what if' between secrets and losses, before things go bad in "Holy Terror," (9x9)...Dean finds a studded collar in the dungeon and Sammy takes it as a sign, but they both need to be sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Collar Did It

"Can I tell you how hot you look in that collar?" Sam teases.

"Shut up," Dean says but there's not much heat behind it. He's looking at himself in the mirror, having, for kicks, decided to try on a thick leather studded strap he had found earlier while in the dungeon. He thinks he might look like a biker. Thinks he could get away with this look if he had a Harley...

Sam grins at their reflection. "Reminds me of that smokin' hot familiar we helped out in St Louis. You want to be my best friend with benefits?"

"All right, screw you," Dean grouses, bringing both hands behind his neck to unbuckle himself.  
"No, really," Sam says darkly, the way he does when he's about to do something very, very bad.

He blocks Dean's hands in time to snap a chain-link leash through the buckle. Gives it a hard tug.  
Caught off guard, the tug's enough to pull Dean off balance. He manages to keep his feet and turns to look disbelievingly at his brother, his mouth open.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he says, all feisty Dean-like, but he doesn't gut-punch Sam, or swipe the legs out from under his gigantic younger sibling. Dean's hands are still and relaxed at his sides. It’s all the encouragement Sam needs. 

He takes charge and has Dean's arm twisted up behind his back, then the other arm, then...  
The handcuffs lock shut with a metal clink. They’re real, not props, cold and heavy steel against Dean’s skin.

"oh for the love of...c'mon, Sam! This isn't funny!"  
Sam secures the chain lead in his fist and takes 4 big steps backwards, forcing Dean to follow or be dropped to the floor and dragged.  
"It's kind of funny," he says.

Sam's long strides take them quickly to the kitchen, where he pulls out a chair and sits at the table. Dean has stumbled along behind, his face growing angrier by the second, until now he is wearing his "I'm- 100%- done- with- your- bullshit- Sam" face.

Sam is undeterred by the bitch face. 

One-handedly (the other hand holds Dean's leash against his thigh) he opens the box of Lucky Charms and pours himself a bowl of cereal. Uncaps the milk that's sitting out and fastidiously fills his bowl up to the rim, no spills, no drips. He picks up the spoon, pauses, and wraps Dean's chain around his other fist other twice. Then he pulls. Hard.

"Son of a bitch" Dean spits through gritted teeth as he is forced to get down on his knees and awkwardly crawl the few feet between them until he's at Sam's side.  
"Good boy," Sam says without looking at him. Takes a bite of his cereal and smirks while he crunches.  
“What, none for me?” Sam chews and smirks on silently, eyes straight ahead.

Dean tries to read Sammy's face. The having-fun-at-your-expense Winchester grin that usually Dean wears himself, it looks good on Sam...It's been too long since Dean's seen that happy tilt to Sam's head, the broad shoulders jaunty, relaxed, confident, healthy...

“You know, I would have let you have the last bowl anyway. No need to establish your dominance with me, alpha dog. I get it.”  
More crunching, still no talking. Maybe Sam is having some kind of psychotic break, but anything's better than Lucifer hallucinations or Trial Sickness. Or jonesing for demon blood.

"So, the dog thing, huh?" he offers, flashes a knowing grin up at Sam. "It was fun while it lasted, but it's over, Cesar Millan. Let it go. I'm not feeling any urges to play fetch with you, or hump your leg, or any other weird shit you may be cooking up in that giant melon of yours. Now un-fucking- cuff me."  
“Down, boy.”  
"That’s it. Kevin!" Dean yells.  
"Not here," Sam says.  
"Since when?"  
"Since I sent him to the library to do research until they close. Which will be very late tonight."

Sam puts down his spoon, takes the bowl in hand and slurps the last of the rainbow sugar milk until its gone.  
"Satisfied?"  
Dean’s been asking him this question his whole life. 

The thought changes Sam’s smile, deepens it. He turns in the chair, takes in the sight of Dean, on his knees, stubbly jaw set hard against the world, green eyes loving Sam even as he plots revenge against him.  
Sam's eyes go to Dean's lips; that crazy sexy, suck my kiss mouth that speaks volumes without having to say a word.  
Ignoring Dean for long just isn't in him, and he leans in, wrapping the chain around his hand once, twice, until he's right in his brother's face and Dean has nowhere to go.

"Both of us are about to be satisfied. Trust me."

"Easy there, tiger."  
Dean manages to chuckle and drops his gaze, shifts from knee to knee, suddenly uncomfortable in more ways than one.  
Sam backs up just enough so he can look at Dean's mouth again, which has gone soft and open the way it does whenever Sam's running in overdrive and Dean's forced to stand back and watch. It's a reverent look, almost...like he's in awe of Sam. Or maybe - that's what love looks like when you're helpless before it. When you just give in. It's time to give in, Sam thinks.

"Look at me."  
"Have I not been looking at you?" But the cockiness is a lie; they can both hear it in his voice.  
"This -” he yanks lightly on the chain- “You finding this is just another sign, I guess you could call it. Whatever it is, it’s time we pay attention to it.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“We have a bunker. A home, even? A dungeon, Dean. It - it feels like our moment..."

His bravado waivers and Sam is suddenly vulnerable, his words coming plaintive instead of the sexy, growling directive he had imagined himself saying a moment earlier. He clenches his jaw and cocks his head to one side, summoning the courage to say the thing he wants to say.

"I want to lock you in here and make you scream my name while the world burns down around us." The words rush out. There it is. A heartbeat of silence as their world shifts a little on its axis.

Dean breaks a quivery smile, stammers.  
"Do you not remember hell, Sam? I do. Sounds kinda like hell. The fire..me...screaming your name..."  
He flinches after he says it.  
He's never told Sam, that for thirty years it was his brother's name he called when the pain drove him past sanity; it was Sam he prayed to, to save him from the pit.

Sam hears it now, imagines for the first time Dean in hell with his name on his lips.  
The pit, the cage, Lucifer - all of it plays across Sam's face. Things he did to make it in hell.  
The things he doesn't talk about.  
His eyes grow dark, but he doesn't look away from his brother.

"Our lives are not normal. We - are not normal. I know my what's in my soul. And it's dark. And I know you,” Sam says and puts his hand against Dean's cheek, runs his thumb across his bottom lip.

Any thoughts Dean's had of putting a stop to this are utterly gone. 

"Life's been jerking our chain one way or another since we were born. You're so good at carrying the burden. Even what's between us - you've always taken the blame and borne the guilt. But it's me who wants this, too. For once, trust me. Let me unburden you. Let me tie you up and set you free, Dean. Let me take what I want.”  
Sam can’t help looking at Dean’s mouth.  
He drags his eyes back up to meet Dean’s.  
“Let me give you what you need," he says, and Dean blinks slowly, swallows, licks his lips.

"Whatever the consequences are, I don't care. It'll be me and you wrapped up so tight together, we won't even notice when the hellhounds are at the door."  
Sam holds his breath.  
"Sounds like heaven, Sammy," Dean says softly, and that’s everything Sam needs.  
Sam pulls him to his feet. They look at the chain between them. As if Sam has ever not gotten his way with Dean, they both think.

"You ok?" Sam asks.  
Dean nods.  
"You ok?" he asks Sam.  
Sam nods, squares his enormous shoulders, and leans in, closing the space between them, opening up a whole new, very satisfying world.


End file.
